Favourite Books

  • The Green Mile
  • Animal Farm
  • Lord of the Flies
  • Lord of the Rings
  • To Kill a Mockingbird

Tuesday, 24 September 2013


As I have mentioned, more than once, I am old! It's a strange concept, one moment, I was a teenager, graduating from high school, with a million plans. Life was going to be so different for me, than it was for my parents, I was going to live the good life, have tons of money, travel about, find a wealthy prince, fly off to another country, where I would be pampered. Certainly was never going to have children!!
  Wow! Was I ever off the mark!!!Some how, things just went haywire. Oh, got my prince, but, cripes, apparently pampering was a momentary thing, I think I might remember a few pamperings, but those quickly changed to plain ordinary Pampers! Hey, that happens!!!
  The moments flew after that. I was a Mother, and next a Grandmother. WTF!!! Just blinked, and I turned old! However, during that blink, tons of sh*t happened. Kids got sick, parents died, friends died. My prince almost died, a couple of times. Jobs were lost, times got very tough. Thousands of problems arose, that were life changing.
  I spent many days, and nights, lying in bed, wondering if we were going to survive. To keep a family together, is an awful lot of work. To keep  a relationship together is an awful lot of work. A person's focus becomes geared towards what is important in their life. When you get older, you begin to realize, the rest of the world is likely focused on their family, and their relationship (or they should be). I do understand, there are those who focus strictly on their jobs, I feel sympathy for those folks. One day, they may very well get to the place, where they realize, the job is over, and they are redundant. Finished, got enough moola to live comfortably, but, all they can do, is invest in a few cats, a rocking chair, and watch the world go by, alone.
  So when I see groups of people with time to root around in other folks lives, and make claims that they are not allowed to do family and relationships they way they see fit. I wonder...how do they find the time? Are they not making mistakes in their own worlds? Cripes, I made massive mistakes, and continue to do so.
  Does it really matter what gender partner folks decide to commit to a lifetime with? Honest to goodness, that is just silly! Does it matter what race, creed (got to look that up) or colour? Whoever they chose, they are going to have to focus, and work very hard to keep their family and partner.
  I have come to a point in life, that it is clear, if a couple can keep things together, through all the hardships life throws at them, they must dedicate all their time and effort in their own backyard.So, how are there so many who can takes the time to check out other backyards?
  I am all for protection, protection of human life, be it child, woman, or man, but....unless that is compromised, no one should be dragging the issue of who can or cannot marry, who can or cannot adopt a child, based solely on gender. WTF does any of that have to do with the safety of a country, or the finances, or protecting men, women and children? Absolutely nothing!!! Marriages have been going on for a coon's age, and the fact that a couple live together is never going to cause a country to fall apart. Who gives a rat's a$$ whether the couple is a man and woman, a man and man, or a woman and woman? Politics has no right to delve into personal commitments, unless these commitments become a drain on society, or, are so destructive they cause the law to step in to protect human life.
  Why on earth is the fact that Gay folk want to legalize their commitment to each other taking up so much time within our parliament, and other governments across the globe? First off, religion seems to be a teeter totter within politics. Hey, I believe in God, I am offended when my rights to say Merry Christmas become politically incorrect, but...government has decreed Happy Holidays is the proper salutation, so....apparently all this sh*t took up a whole whack of parliamentary time, now, we are going to focus on deciding who can marry.
  When I check out folks who are running for office, I really do not give a damn about Gay marriage. I want them to be concerned about the economy, and health and education. I want someone who feels each and every citizen has the right to love and be loved, by whoever they are lucky enough to connect with. I don't want someone who is going to drag the Bible into things (still unsure as to where it is stated a person is not allowed into the gates of Heaven if they love another person) when it suits their fancy, and then break one commandment after another with lies, and adultery, and think that should be ignored.
  I grew up with my Mother teaching me, religion and politics make strange bed fellows, and of course, are also two topics sure to cause arguments. I have also learned that the government, for some weird reason, has decided that grown adults are apparently incapable of making their own decisions. It is past time for government to get out of our private space.
  If a person has reached the age of consent, has the required money to purchase a marriage certificate, and has a partner who agrees to sign this contract, what's the problem? We allow folks in jail for murder to marry, the government actually has no problem with a slime ball, signing a marriage certificate with a woman who is either unbalanced, or, O.K. she is simply unbalanced. Why is this acceptable, and yet, two law abiding, gainfully employed, mentally sane, people of the same sex, cause such an uproar? Two drunken idiots can drive through places in Vegas and legally marry...really....??? How often do those marriages go down the toilet? The government doesn't seem to have a problem with wasting certificates, so, why are we still wasting time?
  Leaders ( how sad is that?) of our countries, it is time to get your priorities straight! Lets allow grown adults to decide who they wish to commit to, and pay their license fees, and live happily (or not) ever after. Just draw a line through this issue, once and for all, and get down to the important stuff, political stuff. Maybe we can fix the deficit, lower taxes, improve health care, and education. I know all of that is pretty boring compared to Joe Blow's (pardon the pun) love life, but...surprise!!! The boring stuff is what politics is all about!!

Get a Clue

O.K. I have read thousands of complaints against Bell Mobility, and believe you me, I likely have 50 of my own. Let me say, right off the bat, I do NOT use a cell phone. In truth, I absolutely abhor them!!My reasons likely stem from years of having bill collectors call on the plain old land lines, long before call display, or call waiting, or any of that nice stuff. I was raised in a time that phones were like fire extinquishers, they were only used if absolutely necessary. Yes, back in the days of "Party lines" and 1 long ring and 2 short would mean the call was for our house. My Dad worked for the small airline that did an awful lot of hauling for the mines that were setting up in the bush, most calls to the house were in regards to his job, so....the phone was off limits, and I bet I spoke on that thing perhaps a total of 10 times in the first 15 years of my life. I simply steered clear of that thing. When I grew up and got my own, times were tough, I hated answering the damn phone...always someone looking for money!
  Phones always ring at the most inopportune time, when you are in the middle of washing dishes, sitting on the toilet. out in the backyard, just that horrid sound that sets you on edge, and requires you to drop everything to answer it....just in case it is important.
  Oh, don't get me wrong, enjoy those times when I pick it up, and the voice on the other end is someone I love to hear from...that does happen. But 9 times out of 10, it is a stupid call...Captain Crunch calling to let me know I have won a cruise, and all I have to do is send money...or, a very short survey that won't take more than 5 minutes of my precious time, or...we can save you money on your phone bill if you just sign a 25 year contract with us. Really, times have changed, the phone is no longer a connection to family and friends, it is a sales tool, and I can't stand it!
  I cringe at the thought of carrying around a piece of equipment that would allow this annoyance to follow me throughout my day. I absolutely hate interruptions! When I am in the middle of my job, and something comes along to pause what I am doing, I get ticked, imagine what a cell phone would do!! When I am speaking to someone, and their phone plays House of the Rising sun, and suddenly they have to talk to Captain Crunch about their cruise, I am livid! I despise walking into a room and having everyone bent over thumbing their new appendage. Lives revolve around cell phones. They have intruded on reality. They fill every waking moment, and interrupt even the most personal moments.
  My family complains that I refuse to carry one, did have one once, gave it away.....I would go batty with something screeching for my attention when I was busy doing something else. Perhaps this is a flashback to raising 3 kids? I apologize that you are not able to contact me at any given moment, but, I assume if it is an emergency, you all know where I work, and my employer is very good at whipping her portable phone over to my location if necessary. The rest of the time, I am either home, or almost home.
  That said, every one else in my family has a phone, and...surprise, they are all under my name!!!So, if anything happens to their phones, guess who deals with Bell Mobility? Yep, yours truly. Before I call them, I have to search out a previous bill so I know exactly what type of phone the call is about (yep, totally cell phone clueless). So, my beloved son smashes the screen to his fancy phone. Hey, it's all good, I agreed to pay $10 a month for insurance which states they will simply replace the phone. Hah! Give the call, they are all nicey nice, apparently it's not a problem, the new phone will be sent the very next day, however.....I will be charged $249 on top of my next phone bill!! HELLLOOOOO,...it seems I didn't read all the fine print, and they neglected to inform me of this fact when I listened to their big insurance speel. Oh, they explained what a wonderful bargain I was getting, I could be out $1000 if I didn't have the insurance. So....told the son, he best have $249 bucks for me come next phone bill, agreed to the replacement phone, and...this is where I got on my high horse. The guy told me that the phone would be shipped on the following Monday, and would be delivered to my door on Wednesday. He refused my postal address, and insisted on my Street address. I questioned who exactly would be delivering it to my door, he informed me it would be their Courier. "Oh" says I, "who would that be, because we don't have a courier service in my town". He tells me that Canada Post is their courier, and I needed to be home to sign. Oh crap, this sent me off on a rant. I explained to him that they would not come to my door, I lived in a town of 900 and nothing was delivered to the door by the postal service. He actually interrupted me, saying he was explaining how things worked, and that CPost delivers nationally, which means everywhere in Canada, and that they would in fact come to my door!!! Anyone who has experienced me on a rampage will know, I just couldn't stop. When I am right, I am adamant. I explained our post office is run by one lady, and it was very unlikely she would lock up and head on over to my house with a phone. I asked if I could call him back when the thing was placed in my postal box. OOOOOhhh, he was not impressed, and refused to listen. He insisted that the phone would be hand delivered 2 days after sent.He was lucky I was on lunch break, because I was in the mood to go with that for hours. So, we concluded our business.
  Today, I check my e-mail, there is a notice from Bell Mobility, the replacement phone has been sent. The notice goes on to state, it will arrive in 2 business days.......unless........I live outside of a major city, in which case, it may be 10 business days!!! So, Mr. Bell Mobility, not only is it not going to be hand delivered to my door, I just might have to wait 8 days longer than you insisted it would take.
  Sadly, I will never speak to that idiot again, however....I think I just might take a moment to do something totally wasteful, and write that scummy insurance company, now that the phone has been sent....Time for folks who do live in the Major cities, to get a clue, there is life outside city limits, and folks who actually have to walk to the Post Office!

Tuesday, 10 September 2013

The Winter of 62

1962 was the year my family moved 180 miles up the A$$hole of the world, according to my Mother. Apparently we were leaving Prince Rupert, which WAS the A$$hole, and proceeding 180 miles up a canal to begin our new life.
  Unlike my Mother, I did not think we had gone up the anus, at all. I believed we had left the nether parts, and arrived in a child's paradise. It truly was! Our two bedroom home was huge! My brother's crib took up a small area, and I had the rest of the room to myself.
  I had it made, the first few years. I was not old enough to deal with a 2 year old, so I was free to spend days and evenings with my friends. Not sure how, but our yard became a popular site. Maybe it was the sand box my Dad built to keep my brother occupied? It had a little wooden roof, to protect the sand from the rain, which seemed to fall most of the week. Our yard also had huge boards, likely some project my Mom had in mind, that didn't get completed quickly. Those boards became everything from airplanes, to houses, within moments, simply by moving them about. We had a wonderful grocery store in the bush. We had little broccoli, berries, lettuce, and rhubbard, even pies. The pies were almost always made out of muck, and on plates, which we stole out of the kitchen. My Mother seldom had enough spoons to set the table, they would disappear out into the yard, to help whip up the pies. The berries, well, they were real enough, we had thimble berries, raspberries, huckleberries, you name it. Broccoli,  not sure what the heck tree they came from, but you could open the leaves, and inside would be another layer of tightly wrapped leaves, that went on and on.
  In school we learned how to make cardboard money. We would get together in a group, and cut up a ton of cash, to be used in our grocery store. We would also use the money to pay for our plane trips, every one of us wanted to be the pilot at the top of the big board, or, the stewardess, who got to walk up and down it, and the wings,balancing themselves  between the many passengers.
  At the edge of the yard, we had a million Fireweed, and between them, massive stinging nettles.The tasty berries would be hidden in amongst the nettles. Stinging nettles are all sting, except for the roots, if you get hit by them, the name says it all, you begin to sting. The sting itches, you scratch, the bumps rise up, and you turn beet red. It is unbearable. The only "cure" for this, was either calamine lotion, or...baking soda, and vinegar. Either way, you would be coated in a white or pink layer of crunchy stuff, and underneath, the sting would continue. Fireweed were arrows, they were whips, the bigger ones could hurt, but often busted, the smaller ones, were like cattails, welts were common. The braver you got, the deadlier the weapon. I bet I only used stinging nettles a couple of times, because, unless you had good gloves, the idiot welding the nasty thing would get punished as well.
 Hidden among the weapons were trails. These trails would take you to various places, one went to Gary and Lori's, one went directly across the street from Netonia's. one went past the side of the old Water Tower, where you crossed the road, and continued down a dirt road, past Brother Bill's, to Marina's, and the other one went along side the Mayor's house , where if you looked hard enough through his fence, you could glimpse his fish pond (I am sure that was the only one in town).
  We spent days, with tin pails, and jars, and even cardboard boxes, down by the creek when the Ooligans ran. The creek would be so full of these tiny fish, we would just scoop them up. My Mom would request this, because she would put a layer on her little garden patch (which the carrots never survived past slightly orange slivers, before getting consumed by starving children) to rot and fertilize. She wasn't the only one, it seemed for a short time, the whole town reeked of rotting fish! Each run, we would haul the tin wash tub out, and try to grow the Ooligan. Poor thing, first step was to give him ice cold water from the hose, and make sure it was nice and clean. Not sure if they starved, or died from shock, sticklebacks, suffered the same fate,pollywogs, tadpoles, frogs, all went through the washtub, lasting at most a few days.
  We had culverts all over, I suppose they were stockpiled for highways, but, to us they were great places to play. Lord, I wonder how I did play in them, spiders must have been all over. The culverts would be piled high, and we would spend hours playing hide and seek, climbing all over them. Funny, it is likely they rolled, but I can't remember anyone getting hurt.
  We also had wooden sidewalks. They were probably starting to rot when I moved there, but, they stayed for many years, giving us a perfect place to find snails, worms and such. Yes, I did climb under my share of sidewalks, again, not sure how I managed with my insane arachnophobia. I can still remember the noise of a wagon being pulled along those sidewalks, and laying flat on my back, hiding under the boards as an adult walked overhead.
  We had the old water tower. Not like in the movies, it wasn't very high, it was the corrugated building beside the tower that we spent the most time in. I can't remember us destroying things, because we all figured getting inside was against the law, so we tried to make sure no one knew we could do this. Cripes, if I recall correctly, we would pull open a loose piece on one side, and all slide in to the building.Nothing inside but huge metal machinery that was rusted, and old tools that apparently were not good enough to head home with anyone. I remember that building getting the first graffiti from our young hands, Cindy B and Donny A, heavy hitting stuff back in the day, piece of fluff now.
  The summer of 62 was just the beginning , Halloween eve, the best part of childhood began. Now, Halloween in my home town was a huge deal. We all had those awesome masks that the moment moisture hit it, the colours would start to flow onto your face. Of course, I don't remember very many Halloween trick or treat nights that didn't consist of rain. We eventually pulled the masks off, because they would start to fall apart, but, hey, we had coloured faces, so, we would continue until we hit every single house in town! We would meet up with different groups who would set us onto a house they had hit, that gave away the real good stuff, like Candied Apples, or Popcorn balls. Back in my childhood, we never ever worried about needles hidden in children's treats, parents never ever got close to putting their hands into our pillow case to "check things out". My  friends Grandmother, Marie would have these enormous bags set aside for Cindy and her friends, in truth, there was enough in those bags, that we didn't have to go to any other house, but with the excess, that candy lasted us darn near till Christmas!
  No the best part of childhood in 62 that began Halloween night, was...snow. Oh that snow would only last for the morning, if that, then it would melt, but it was the preview of what would be the first amazing winter of my life. Where I grew up, we got dumped on, and unless you spent a winter in the 60's in my town, you have no concept on what dumped on means! My town holds the awesome title of being the most northerly ice-free port in the world. Now, hey, maybe that title has been taken elsewhere, but, it was ours! We never got iced in, because it stayed just warm enough to snow almost every single day of winter. It snowed so much that we would have to go outside, and shovel the snow away from the windows so you didn't live in a dark cave. It snowed so much that you could walk up to someone's second story window and knock on it. It snowed so much that we would pull our toboggans up onto the roof of the old highways building, and slide off. That Highways building was the best snow slide. The snow plow would push more and more snow up in that yard, and we would often have 3 runs on the hill.These runs went directly onto the road, but we never worried, think there were about 20 cars in town, and hardly anyone drove at nighttime. The big kids (and I admit myself, once or twice) would HookieBob, they would grab onto a car or truck bumper and slide along behind it, again, because I lived in the enchanted town, I don't remember any of my friends ever getting hurt, doing this insane stuff. We strapped on our skates over our winter boots, 2 metal blades with leather straps and buckles, we would attempt to skate along a gravel road with snow on it, hey...we thought it was pretty amazing, if you got into a tire track, sometimes it had a nice shiny layer of compressed snow.
  Back in the 60's girls were not allowed to wear pants to school, we had to wear dresses. Each morning I would put on my dress, and my "tights" then haul the snow pants up, tucking the dress down the legs, slip my tootsies into my lovely snow boots, usually with a bread bag inside,( because they had not dried from the previous night), and stand outside on the porch watching for one of the "big kids", usually PeeWee from across the street, or one of the Cole boys, to walk past on their way to school. The reason I would wait for them was, because they would break trail. The road to school was never plowed in the morning, and would often have 2 feet of snow overnight. To a 6 year old, this was a huge workout to walk the 4 blocks to school. I would simply follow in their footsteps, even though they had "daddy long legs" and their footsteps were so far apart.
  While we were at school in the morning, the "snow blower" would make it's rounds. Now, those of you city folk, would never understand this dreadful monster. It was basically a giant of what folks use in their driveways. This horror was capable of chewing up anything buried under the night's snow. I know for a fact pets were lost to this nightmare when dog chains got caught up and pulled into it's mouth to be blown out the top. You stayed away from that thing, the snow would blow up onto the road sides in mountains, filled with bits and pieces of toys, rocks etc. However, it made the walk home for lunch, much easier than the morning trek. You just had to make sure you did not step onto the polished areas it left, because those were sheer ice.
  So, with the assistance of the "snow blower" snow banks would often be well over 10 feet high. Then once during January or February, we would get a freezing rain. This rain would coat the snow, putting an iron clad "crust" on everything. This crust would allow all the children passage to places they could never reach at other times of the year. Our favourite was the mountain.. We could walk high above the ground all the way to the bottom of the mountain. All the bushes would be covered, it was just a flat white road to anywhere. We would get to the mountain, and then, I cannot believe we actually used to do this, we would climb up as close as we could, to the bottom of the slide path. WTF!!!! We must have all had damp brains, the slide path was the area bare of tree, that all the ice and snow would make it way down, when conditions were right. It was always covered in enormous icicles, icicles bigger than the average adult, cripes, bigger than a house!!That was our destination. I honestly can't believe not a single child became a statistic, if one of my children had ever said they planned to do something this incredibly stupid, I would have locked them up. Thing is, I doubt my parents, or the parents of any other kids, knew we did this. Everything we did, as children was without fear. We had bears in all our back yards, and around every corner, but....our lives did not stop because of this. We often had to watch out the window for the bear to depart before heading out into our yard, .....hey, they left, and we never worried they would return to claw us up. All the walks out onto the "crust" we never had conversations on what we would do if we came upon a bear, they were just facts of life, and we simply figured they had other things to keep them busy...like sleeping under 15 feet of snow in a nice dry area.
  The winter was a time to build snow houses. Houses that would be at the bottom of the incredible dump, we always planned to dig down to the grass, but, I doubt we ever got that deep. We would have steps down into the houses, benches we could rest on, walls, tables, chairs, beds, all made out of snow. Oh heck, most of the time, the stuff we "built" the furniture out of was semi powder, and would fall into pieces upon an attempt to use it. But, we would then slice chunks of the "crust" to build from.
  I moan on a steady basis about winter, now. Likely I would moan if I still lived in my "home town", but...we never suffered the biting agony of -30 winds, and frost bite warnings. We simply spent month after month, waking up and going to sleep with a steady dump of snow.
   As the winter came to an end, the most fabulous music began. The snow and ice on the surrounding mountains heralded the march into spring, it would begin to slide down the mountains. Some snow slides were just that, small rumbles and a quick roar, over in minutes. I would lay in bed at night, and count those slides, they were a joyful sound, not unlike the honk of the geese when they return. Some went beyond slides, and became massive avalanches, in the daylight these were astounding to watch, and in all the years I lived there, perhaps only a few times the snow would travel to the bottom of the mountain and across the river.
  My town had 4 seasons, all of them intensely beautiful. With age, I realize, Winter is my least favourite season. I tend to enjoy the mild ones, Spring and Fall. But, as a 6 year old, that first winter in my very own Mayberry, will remain the winter of a lifetime.

Monday, 2 September 2013

Mind your own Business

Strangely enough, nothing has irritated me enough to sit down and rant...until now. I am sure, by now, you have all figured out, I speak my own personal take on things. Hey, it is likely I am occasionally wrong, but...this is my space, and I figure I can spew exactly how I feel. If someone does not agree, so be it, hey, comment, or...don't bother reading. Two easy choices, both very acceptable.
  I suppose, also by now, you all know I am a face book follower. I love it, it offers me a peek into the world of old and new friends. When you live so far away from everyone you are connected to, this is the quickest way to ensure everyone is alive and kicking.
  That said, Face Book has also become a way to share world news, and tidbits of curiosity. Most times, I just click into the stuff, shake my head, and move on. I have learned over time, many things posted are not true, so...there is SNOPE. Hey, figured I had that down pat. My mistake. I saw a news story, with a shocking video, and decided it was so disturbing, I was going to ensure it was real, before sharing. Ahhh...that is when my technical inadequacy surfaced. See, old people like me, figure all you have to do is type everything down, and you will automatically be taken to the place you want. I typed Snope and then "video of Syrian soldier eating human organs" Bam....there it was stories about the video. The part I didn't clue into, was, I wasn't on Snope, it was actually CNN and it was a news story that stated this was "alleged". Hello...didn't clue in, and shared, with my own comments. Hey, I said earlier, likely I am occasionally wrong, and this might be one of those times.
  Problem is, I kind of doubt this video is not fact. And, as disturbing, and sickening as it is, after the disgust wore off, my grey matter was quivering. History is telling us that the country of Syria is next on the list of middle eastern countries the world (the United States) is going to march into and fix. That frightens me far more than a video of one human eating another's organs.
 Why does the consumption of people parts not worry me as much as war? Because, Syria is a very old country, with very, very old traditions. We know there are many countries out there that cut the hands off thieves. We know there are countries that still stone other humans for perceived wrong doings. We know there are countries with traditions that allow child labour, and women are treated as second class citizens, and cripples are shunned. There are countries where children are forced into prostitution, and women are bought and sold like cattle. Whole countries starve.
  All of this has gone on for centuries. Culture and tradition has been taken from many in our own country, because some saw it as wrong. It did not suit the western culture. Is everything here perfect? No, many are attempting to regain what they lost, and we have realized it was a mistake to tear who they were as a people away, and force them to become what one group saw as the "right" way.
  Now, don't get me wrong, I am certainly not promoting all that which I speak of. I hate to see children suffer, I hate to see women treated as property. However....in some worlds, the "old" worlds, that is the culture and that is the tradition. To attempt destroy the way of life of a whole country will never be a positive. I look back on the countries that have had wars that the "western world" stepped into, in the time period I have been alive, and see if things were fixed. I suppose Vietnam  could be better off than before, however, now among their tradition and culture, we have a new mix. We put our ideas and ways into their world, and along with the good, we have definitely added some nasty problems.We saw the Gulf war, helllloooo, have a look at what that accomplished. Made a few folks extremely rich, and things are still a mess. Iraq, just so sad, are the people of that country better off now? Afghanistan?
  The western world seems to think they know better. Why do we think our way is right? Are we really so stupid as to think we go in, have a chat, decide who it is we think is best to run things, set them up, walk away, and lo and behold the sun shines brighter and the country's citizens suddenly wake up happy, free, and middle class? The sad truth is, each time the western world steps in, we make the call, we pick a side, and hand over incredible amounts of money and power to that side. Human nature is such that, when one is given this power over all, no matter who they are, corruption rears its nasty head. Those who have this incredible support become all powerful, and then a country must change to suit their ideals.
  Those of us who live in North America,( both countries), have come to realize our own governments are corrupt, they do what they want. They spend our money, and make the rules behind closed doors. We call ourselves the "free world", it is extremely obvious we are anything but free. The voices of the people have been limited to those who have found their way into power by the "vote". Once they get in office, they decide they know best. They ignore the voice of the people, they do what those who sit behind the doors feel is right. They feel that the single vote the people took  that got them in, gives them the ability to run things as they see fit. They become so busy trying to fix other countries, they do not have time to clean up their own home. Each time they devote to a problem "off shore" our own country suffers. We spend obscene amounts in military support, we send thousands of our own to die in places they are not welcomed by either side. Our leaders sit behind the doors, trying to build new countries, while our own suffer.
  In the perfect world, I would adopt every single Christian Children Fund child! I would have water wells in every African town. I would build schools, and hospitals, and I would have safe homes for all those oppressed women, and young kids would never have to sit all day making clothes for big box stores.
  But, the sad truth is, in my own country there are children who suffer, there are communities without clean water, there are many towns without medical care, women here are abused with no place to go.
  Before we take up arms, and attempt to fix things in places we know little about, places that have survived far longer than our young countries, we had best focus on our own mess. We obviously are far from perfect, and it is past time to clean up our own backyard, before we go traipsing into others.
  As to that sickening business of eating human organs. I find it obscene, and beyond disturbing, but...remember, Syria is a country far older than ours. If you look back into European history, you will find stories of this horrible practice, between Protestants and Catholics (O.K. it was in the 1500's). History tells of the Aztecs doing exactly the same, and aboriginal tribes in many countries. That doesn't happen now, we have evolved, and as far as I know, beyond really f*cked up murderers, we , as a people cannot fathom this. Again, Syria is NOT North America, or modern Japan, or modern Hawaii. It is a country steeped in culture and traditions, many which we do not condone, but they are not ours.
 Before we go fixing their traditions and cultures like we fixed those of our own aboriginals, let's take a step back. The world cannot be a cookie cutter place. We are not the same, no matter what society claims. Our history, traditions and culture make us unique. Just because we do not like the ways of another world, does not give us the right, or even the responsibility to force them to adapt to what we feel is proper.
  Let our leaders sit down and spend our money fixing our mess. Let them listen to their people, first. If in the next century, we can build our Utopia, we can then consider offering our hands to those who request it. We will open our doors to those who wish to commit to our way of life, those who chose to follow our traditions and culture, because a country must have those. Our tradition of the knowledge that if one works hard and follows the law, they can reach their dream, our culture that grows and adapts, and becomes something that other countries try to strive for.
  It is time to mind our own business, get our own ducks in a row, and ensure we can live safe, happy, and healthy lives.